On reaching the cabin Gabriel was offered the chance to get his bearings. The site was quiet, the police tape oscillating in the gentle breeze. The fire was well and truly out, the remains sifted thoroughly and any surviving evidence collected. All that remained of the dwelling were a few charred planks of wood and guesses about what it had once been: a hunter’s cabin, possibly even a meth lab, though they didn’t often get that type of thing around here and never this remote. Chandler hoped to discover what exactly had gone on in there, find the truth. It seemed Gabriel wanted to know too.

‘What happened here?’ asked Gabriel, staring at the ruins. A tremor seemed to course through his body. ‘Why is it burned down?’

‘You tell us,’ said Chandler.

Gabriel shrugged, the tremor persisting. ‘I don’t know. Did everything burn up?’

Chandler tried to read the lightly bearded face, judge whether Gabriel was pleased that everything had been destroyed. His study was interrupted by Mitch who placed himself where the front door of the cabin used to be. ‘So, tell us where you went from here.’

As Gabriel closed his eyes and set about reliving the story of his escape, Chandler glanced towards the crest of the Hill. About a hundred metres up the slope and framed by the low angle of the sun he noticed faint shadows in the dirt. Stepping closer he made out two sets of footprints leading towards the ridge in the distance. Were they from some of the many officers who had trampled through here logging evidence? Or the suspects? Were they a remnant of the chase between Heath and Gabriel?

Reaching the first set, Chandler bent down to take a look. The tread was clear in the dust and didn’t match those from standard-issue police boots. A pair of trainers, he guessed, and hopefully of the kind Gabriel and Heath wore.

Jabbing a pen in the soil to mark the spot, he set off for the ridge carefully following the prints, leaving everyone else behind. Two different sets of footwear had come in this direction, the prints following almost the exact same path, stride-distance apart, a litter of broken branches and torn leaves marking the route, including what looked to be a few fibres of clothing torn off by the rough bark of a tree trunk. He reached the crest of the ridge. It sloped gently away on the other side. It was difficult to see much beyond the first layer of trees. He’d need help to search further. Turning around, he went to see what was going on back at the cabin.

Gabriel strode past him.

Chandler almost fell backwards in surprise. Gabriel glanced at him, offering a hint of a smile.

But his suspect wasn’t free. Closely behind him trailed his uniformed entourage, gradually making their way into the bush.